Tomasi, Gleason Talk the Death of Superman, "Truth, Justice & Family" in Rebirth
So, some sort of introduction might be in order here. Hi, I’m Joe. Way back in the blogspot days, I co-founded this blog with Mr. Cronin, Mr. Cox, and some other internet pals. It was an attempt to raise the level of discourse about comics online from your usual message board “Yes it is/no it isn’t” nonsense. After a few years, I realized I was running out of things to say about comics, so I semi-retired, a reservist like the Phantom Stranger for the JLA: commenting from time to time, and very occasionally even posting.
These days I write for Here Comes a Regular, another group blog I founded with good intentions. Several of my real life friends and I wanted to talk about the drinking life as we’ve found it, sans excuses, judgments, or stereotypes. It fell apart after a while, but has been reborn as of late. For Christmas I was given a booklet of thirty coupons, each for a free beer at a different bar in Brooklyn. I’ve decided to visit at least one a week and write about the experience; not just the bar in some Yelp-review like slant, but the environment both literal and metaphorically. In other words, I’m trying to get to the bottom of what these bars mean in my own personal mythology, this complicated, tangled narrative full of double, triple, and opposing meanings.
Anyway, I guess Brian kind of liked it because he brought up the idea of having a blog crossover in the form of a MoCCA party, and I could write one of my entries, which I’ve dorkily named “Mono-lagering” (GET IT?!?!?) about the experience, then post it here at CSBG. So, anyway, without further ado, here it is. Hope you enjoy it, and feel free to check out HCAR for more of this, and a back catalog filled with other stuff.
For this party, I actually chose a Manhattan bar. I knew some attendees might be travelers, and it’s often difficult to make them realize how much better Brooklyn can be. Besides, I like the joint. King’s Head Tavern is one of those bars you find completely by random (this one because its proximity to the L train and my at-the-time-particularly-full bladder). Twenty beers on tap, a good variety, and a very good bourbon selection. There’s a back room with lots of space, shelves full of red books, some semi-pre-Raphaelite paintings, and a big-ass throne. So the place had space, was accessible, and I knew there was tasty imbibery to be had.
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